


Last Night

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Foxtrot [27]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, The Dollhouse - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, M/M, not actually RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/">comment_fic</a>: "any sci fi fandom, author's choice, Other Worlds Than These". The night before he joins up with the ROTC, Evan Lorne falls in love with a shy math major from Stanford named Joe, and then never sees him again. Until late the night before his designated Sunday. (Evan wasn't lying that night when Sheppard came to him and Evan told him he wasn't in love with him. Because he wasn't in love...with Sheppard.) Pre-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night

Evan's last night of freedom, of being who he was without reservation, began at a dim club in the famed Haight-Ashbury district. He wore tight jeans and a tighter t-shirt and had been daring, smearing his eyes with kohl and dusting glitter at his throat. He was a walking cliche, but he didn't care, because heads turned when he walked through the crowd. His fake ID was good enough to get him up to the bar for a single shot of liquid courage. He didn't want to be hungover the next day, and he wanted to remember tonight, because it would have to see him through. For a lifetime.

Some high-roller in designer jeans and a leather jacket had breezed across the dance floor with a crowd of beautiful women in his wake. He probably wasn't old enough to be in the club either, but he had money to make up for any deficiencies in his fake ID. Most of the women with him were way out of Evan's league, but he wasn't interested in them.

Tomorrow he signed on with the Air Force ROTC, and they were going to pay his way so he could get a degree and - if he was good enough, he was sure he was good enough, he'd trained so hard - become a flyboy, soar the skies at breathtaking speeds. No one else back home had understood it, but Evan wanted it so much it hurt to breathe thinking about it. To get it, he'd have to give up part of himself, and tonight, he was going to indulge that part of himself for the last time.

In other worlds than this, it wouldn't matter who he loved, who he danced with, who he kissed, but he was joining the Air Force, and this was the world he lived in, and this was his last chance to love another boy, and he was going to take it - and give it - with everything he had.

So he let the bourbon burn down the back of his throat, and then he scanned the dance floor. There were plenty of pretty boys on the floor tonight, but most of them were twined around each other, putting on a show, and Evan wasn't interested in sexual politics or exhibitionism. He wanted someone he could lose himself in, someone who would give him full focus in exchange for all his attention.

And then he saw, hovering uncertainly at the end of the bar, the high-roller, only he'd shed his fancy leather jacket, and none of the girls were with him.

Wait, no, not the high roller, just a kid who looked a lot like him, if he'd been stripped of all pretense and confidence. The kid took a deep breath and plunged onto the dance floor, and he began to dance. He could keep a beat, but he wasn't a particularly artful dancer, not like the other boys who knew how to twine and turn their bodies to show themselves off to every advantage. The kid closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and he had a good time.

Evan could respect that. So he eased his way through the crowd toward the kid, and he leaned in and said, low and intimate, "Hey."

The kid's eyes flew open. Up close they were indescribable, a gold-green-gray that was too dynamic to be plain old hazel. "H-hey." He bit his lip.

He was shy. That was kind of adorable, but Evan wasn't exactly into debauching the innocent.

"You mind if I dance with you?"

The kid shook his head, a blush staining his cheeks.

"Thanks." Evan began to bob to the beat, in sync with his new partner. "I'm Evan, by the way."

"Joe." The kid actually offered his hand.

Evan shook it, because his mother had raised him right, and they danced. Evan kept a respectful distance between them, because Joe looked awfully apprehensive, but after a couple of songs Joe edged closer, and half a dozen songs later they were pressed deliciously against each other, and when he had a partner, Joe was a much better dancer.

"This is actually kinda fun," Joe admitted.

Evan smiled at him. "Dancing, or dancing with me?"

"Uh, both?"

"We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," Evan said, because he tried to be a gentleman no matter what, and the night was still young. If Joe didn't pan out, Evan could look elsewhere.

"I've kissed boys before," Joe said. "Usually when I'm kinda drunk, though. The girls seem to like it. Which makes sense, I guess. The guys like it when the girls kiss, so."

"I'd prefer to enjoy you mostly sober," Evan admitted.

Joe's face lit up. "Really? I mean, cool."

Evan laughed softly. "Don't worry. You don't have to try to impress me. I'm already plenty interested."

"Okay." Joe pressed closer, tangled his legs with Evan's, wound his arms around Evan's waist. He was a couple of inches taller than Evan, but Evan was pretty much resigned to being shorter than pretty much every other guy around him, so he looped an arm around Joe's neck and danced even closer. Girls were pretty, soft and sweet and warm, but the hard planes of a man's body were delicious in a way Evan couldn't explain.

"You come here often?" Evan asked, then shook his head. "Sorry. Didn't mean to actually ask that."

"No," Joe said. "I'm here with my friend John. He likes to party a lot. What about you?"

"Nope," Evan said. "My first time. Probably my last, but that's okay."

"You're really cute," Joe said, ducking his head like the admission was embarrassing. "You could be dancing with anyone in here. Everyone looked at you when you came in."

"You're really cute yourself," Evan said, "and I'd rather be dancing with you than anyone else. And more, if you like."

"I think I would like," Joe said, and ducked his head and kissed him.

Evan had been fully prepared to make the first real move, but he parted his lips beneath Joe's and let him taste the bourbon he'd drunk earlier. Joe maneuvered them off the dance floor and into an alcove, pressed Evan up against the wall and kept kissing him. He kept his hands cupped around Evan's shoulders, though, so Evan took some initiative and skimmed his hands up and down Joe's ribs, tugging playfully at the hem of his shirt.

Joe pulled back, gasping raggedly. "You, um, you can touch me, if you want."

Evan eased a hand under Joe's shirt, stroked up and down his back gently. "I think it's pretty obvious that I want." He rolled his hips forward, and Joe closed his eyes, shuddered with pleasure. Then he leaned in and kissed Evan again.

Joe's kisses made Evan heady and dazed, and he had to get them somewhere else, somewhere private with a horizontal surface before things got too far.

"Will your friend John notice if you go missing?" Evan asked.

"Not if I'm back at the hotel room before dawn," Joe said.

"You have a hotel room?"

"John got a fancy penthouse suite a few blocks from here. It's empty right now, though."

Evan licked his way into Joe's mouth. Joe had been drinking Bailey's. "Want to pay it a visit?"

Joe nodded, looking a little dazed. Evan curled his fingers through Joe's.

"Lead the way."

They barely managed to keep their hands off each other in the cab, judging by the cabby's amused expression when he let them out in front of a very fancy hotel. Evan gave him a generous tip, and then they climbed into the elevator. Joe had to fumble through his pockets for a fancy key card that got them up to the penthouse suite. As promised, it was empty. Evan might have appreciated the fine, expensive decor if he weren't distracted by the way Joe was sliding his hands up Evan's chest when they kissed.

"My room's this way," Joe said, and then they were tumbling onto thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

Evan burned Joe into his mind, memorized him with lips and hands, because the room was too dim to study him the way he wanted to, with his artist's eye. Hours later, sweaty and sated and curled around the last warm male body he would get to hold for the rest of his life, Evan stroked Joe's soft hair absently and resisted the urge to find a pen and a paper and draw him. He didn't want to ruin this memory by noting imperfections, flaws, mismatched lines. But he wanted to remember this and carry it with him to the skies, to his grave.

Then Joe stirred in his arms. "Evan?"

"I'm still here." Evan ducked his head, nuzzled behind Joe's ear so he could whisper.

Joe shivered. "That was fun."

"Yes, it was." Evan smiled into his skin.

"Thanks."

Evan's chest tightened. "You're welcome." Joe was the one who deserved thanks. He didn't know what he'd given Evan tonight, for the rest of his life.

"Evan?" Joe sounded as shy and tentative as he had when they first spoke at the beginning of the night. He certainly hadn't been shy about screaming Evan's name earlier. Evan kind of missed that unabashedness.

"Yes?"

Joe sounded hopeful. "Are you from around here?"

"Not for long. Going away to college. You?"

"Palo Alto. Going to Stanford." Joe sounded tentatively proud.

Evan pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "So you're some kind of genius."

"Maybe. I'm majoring in math."

Evan chuckled. "Then you're definitely a genius."

The back of Joe's neck turned pink. "What do you plan on studying in college?"

"Something boring and useful, like surveying," Evan said, "but I'll minor in something fun, like art."

"That's pretty cool," Joe said. He sighed contentedly and snuggled back into Evan's arms.

"So," Evan whispered, "why do you like math?"

Half of what Joe said was beyond Evan, but the awe and wonder in his voice was so sweet and pure Evan could almost taste it, like honey on his tongue. As Joe described numbers and strings and the theory of the universe, of formulas and stars, Evan felt himself quietly, inexplicably falling in love. So he tugged Joe around to face him and kissed him, and then he lay back and urged Joe on top of him, and for the first and last time that night they made love.

Joe fell asleep nestled against Evan's side, and Evan closed his eyes and said his goodbyes.

The sun was just coming up, bringing just enough light to break the shadowed beauty of Evan's illusion, so he pulled on his clothes, grabbed his shoes, and padded for the door.

The high-roller from the club was sitting on one of the chairs, unconscious and half-naked women strewn around him while he sipped from a bottle of champagne. In the light, he looked less like Joe than Evan had first thought - he had broader features, a more square jaw. Gray eyes. But they could have been brothers.

Joe had said they were friends, though.

The high-roller looked Evan up and down, taking in his mussed hair and the obvious love bites on his neck, and grinned. "Hope you gave him a good time."

"Good times were had by all," Evan assured him gravely, and slipped out.

He was ready and alert for his first roll call as a member of the United States Air Force, and he was glad his new uniform covered all the memories of the night before, because that meant they were his and his alone.

And he trained, and studied, and worked hard, and the Air Force gave him a chance to be a flyboy before they snatched it away, shoved him under a mountain, and he discovered that even in other worlds than this, he still had to keep part of himself ruthlessly suppressed.

And then they shipped him out to another galaxy, and when he saw his new commanding officer, his heart stopped.

Joe.

But Dr. Weir introduced him as Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, and Evan's heart restarted. Evan hadn't seen Joe in years, had made efforts not to think of him often, and his memories of Joe were softened in shadow and kisses and were more about touch and taste than lines and color, so it was an easy mistake to make, thinking his new CO looked like a lover from so long ago. John Sheppard was deliberate insouciance, no-nonsense, and determined. He protected Atlantis and its inhabitants fiercely and with unparalleled honor, and Evan was proud to serve with him, even if he wasn't star-struck by him. John Sheppard was too bold and forthright, too much a soldier to have been sweet, shy, gentle Joe, and whenever Evan looked at his CO, he never saw anyone else.

Until late on the night before his designated Sunday.


End file.
